


Footsteps

by PrettyChitty



Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: Assassination, F/M, Growing Up, Murder, Poverty, Spy Organization, Thievery, World War I, World War II
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-08-02
Updated: 2015-03-01
Packaged: 2018-02-11 11:08:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,269
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2065905
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PrettyChitty/pseuds/PrettyChitty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Spy is a conniving backstabber with nothing better to do than steal your secrets, trip you in the hallway, and sleep with your mother. Two questions come to mind when the Spy is mentioned… “How did he get that way?” and “Is he behind me?”</p>
<p>So, what is Spy’s story?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Survival

Rain fell from thick clouds blanketing the surrounding world. Demolished buildings, lain strewn about in their own debris, became soaked by heavy droplets. Empty streets fell into deep shades of grey as the sun took its last smidge of light below the horizon. Smells of tainted water and gunpowder polluted the senses. A musty flavor hung in the air, only partially dampened by the small storm. Splashes echoed in the distance and stifled cries bounced off the damaged walls.

Water dribbled down small hands, mixing with crimson liquid that crawled through tiny fingers. For a moment, everything was still. His eyes blurred. Shapes danced and colors mixed. He was losing track of the man before him. The edges of his vision darkened into a black frame. Slowly, something pulled at their weight. They leaned to one side. A chill ran down his spine with the sudden weightlessness. Everything was silent as they glided down. Time had moved so quickly these last moments. A fog clouded his mind as he tried to focus, as he tried to remember. What had he done?

The quiet was interrupted by a large slap. Filth sloshed up between the two bodies and freezing water doused them. The boy attempted a gasp but found his trachea still restricted by the hand around his throat. He kicked and twisted his anatomy free from the fresh corpse. The four year old choked on bitter oxygen as he convulsed. He blurredly located the face of his assailant. It was frozen in shock and sudden realization. An old, rusted kitchen knife jutted out from his neck.

 The boy clasped the wooden grip of the blade. He tugged at his only means of defense. The man’s head bobbed, refusing to let its new accessory go. The child sniffled, terrified. The tan handle took on a pink tone as he continued to yank. His tears came hot and tore down his face as the flesh ripped. Blood splattered across the ground and tarnished their clothes. Red mixed with the murky puddle the carcass lay in. Metal scraped across stone bricks as the boy stood. He bolted.

The year was 1918. Germany had invaded France, capturing industrial locations. The economy plummeted. Most people couldn’t provide for their own families so why bother with some stray kid? He had no one to take care of him. If he didn’t do so himself, death was inevitable.

His mother had disappeared a few weeks prior, leaving him on his own. Oh, how he missed his mother. Her voice was always gentle and her eyes were soft. He didn’t know his father but she always said he looked like him. He didn’t know where she went. All he knew is when she didn’t come home after dark, she was gone. He had seen it with their neighbors before. War was not something a child so young was meant to understand. Even so, you never forget the victims, and you never forget your first kill.

He came to a stop and hid in a broken building. The wood shifted around him, threatening to collapse. No one seemed to follow. He took the chance to clean the blood off his coat. It would look bad if someone caught him with the fresh evidence still staining his attire. He found a broken mirror to observe himself in. His beige jacket and pants were filthy. His white shirt was practically transparent, displaying his pink body underneath. His mud caked socks hung loosely to his frail legs and his shoes had tangled laces. Since he didn’t know how to properly tie them, the boy had settled for various amounts of knots.

He was pushing bangs out of his eyes when he heard it. A pair of loud feet were approaching his location, and there would likely be a body attached. Peeking out between broken boards, he saw a silhouette carrying a bag. He snuck out and moved closer. It was a woman. She glanced around before hiding the bag in a cluster of fallen bricks. She ran ahead to scout the area. The boy moved to the bag, curious about its contents. What he found made his heart skip a beat. It was food. It had been days since he’d last eaten. Quickly, he snatched a few of the items and dashed away, hiding the food in his pockets. He ran until he eventually reached the place he’d been stowing away.

There was an open area under one of the houses he’d found. It looked like it was previously a cellar. The part of it that wasn’t collapsed had once held food. He’d devoured what he could and threw out whatever smelled bad or made him feel sick. There were even these long glass bottles with a nasty drink inside. All of those were immediately poured out. He found that what bottles weren’t broken could be used to gather water. He knew where he could get some without much trouble but the walk was long. He would always be thirsty by the time he got back so taking a few bottles kept him hydrated. He’d tried carrying three of the glass treasures at once but shattered two of them on the way back.

He sat upon the makeshift bed he’d built. It wasn’t much more than a few blankets piled in the corner but it kept him warm. He’d managed to scavenge some thick curtains to lay on the ground below them as a kind of small jumbled mattress. Separating the blankets, he retrieved various vegetables from his pockets. Each one had spots showing that they were freshly harvested. The two carrots had dirt covering them, the lettuce had a moist stem, and a crisp cucumber still had part of the plant attached. For such a scandalous action, the child was rewarded well.

As he washed the vegetables, the boy decided he would do whatever it takes to survive in this world. After killing a man and stealing food from a woman, he could not step lower. At least, that’s what he thought, until the day he was proven wrong.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm finally able to work on this again! Woo!!! I'm going to attempt to upload a new chapter on the last day of each month. This will likely be the shortest chapter seeing as how it was meant to be a prologue. What do I mean by "meant" you say? Well, I kinda broke the prologue up into several chapters.
> 
> The prologue was, at first, going to cover the first 24 years, then it got complicated, and I was like "This is way to long for a prologue!" then another part of me was like "Yeah, and it's skipping through his life way too quickly!" then a third part of me was like "No freakin' derp! Bust it up into different chapters!" So I did that and the second part of me was like "This is great! It's a little rough in areas but still pretty damn good" and the third part said "I think this is worth posting now" and then the first part was like "since when did I start holding group conversations with myself! This is really weird and I should probably stop it before it becomes a thing!"
> 
> And that is why it's bad for me to stay awake for more than 24 hours!!!


	2. Thievery

By the time he was eight, the boy had gotten quite a reputation. He had gained more targets by moving to a populated area rather than staying in his cellar. He pickpocketed money, slipped jewelry away from unsuspecting bodies, and even snatched goods from stores. Few noticed and fewer were able to catch him in the act. Often times he would buy food over stealing it. He had stolen food from shops before and even lost one of his favorite spots to an owner with a good memory.

No one questioned where he got the items of value. Who was going to turn away a kid who offered them gems and pearls for the price of food? To the boy, they were just shiny rocks. They were nothing he needed to survive. All of that changed when he marked the wrong man.

It would be a simple hit. He knew a sleazy store willing to pay for fancy watches like the one the man carried. He’d get even more if it wasn’t engraved. Slowly, the boy crept over to the man. His small hand slid into the man’s pocket. No sudden movements came from either of them. As he unhooked the chain, a tight grasp clenched his wrist. “Got you, tiny thief!”

The child struggled against the brutal touch. He grabbed for his old rusted kitchen knife. A quick slash, but no success. His other hand became locked in the man’s arm as he was spun. His appendages were trapped behind his own back. The man chuckled. His deep voice rumbled in French “I know about your pathetic knife. Come, let’s go for a little walk.” The boy was pulled away and into a secluded area. It was an alleyway with boards above that filtered any light. It was dim for the middle of the day. A storm was picking up. Chances increased that there would be another murder in the rain. It might be the child’s blood mixing with sweet water this time.

“I’ve watched your little charade. You dance for them, put on a show, and take their wallets when they turn away. You’re smart, boy. I want you to join me.” The boy silently struggled. “I can offer you more than what you steal from these fools. You want that, don’t you, money?” He paused as the boy contemplated this. The struggling ceased. Glancing behind him, their eyes met. One set filled with amusement, the other full of caution and a feral attitude.

“You’ll pay me?” The boy questioned. He was naïve. “What do I have to do?” The man let a smug grin slip past his lips. The boy’s confidence waned. Was he truly going to trust this man, this man with this smile?

“You just have to steal something for me. You can do that.” The man released his grip. The boy stumbled away and turned to him. He paused a moment before submitting to agreement and retreating his knife. The terms were discussed and plans were set. Where he would go, who he would meet, how he would get paid, the man made it sound so easy. “Keep your head down until tomorrow evening.” His voice groaned out enthusiastically. “That’s when we strike.” The child hesitantly nodded and the man left him. Remaining in his hand was the silver pocket watch he’d never lost his grip on.

 

The next day was long. The boy’s nerves tingled with anticipation. He watched for the setting sun and glanced at the ticking clock in his palm. It was almost time. He had a long walk ahead of him but arriving early would give away their plans. Patience, like with his pickpocketing, was necessary. Oranges and purples faintly painted the sky as the child rose to his feet. The dark blue of night started to set in. He hid his small treasure and made his way to the specified location.

A man stood there, holding a green bag. As instructed, the boy approached the figure. He received a curious glance from the tall individual. Gulping back his nervousness, he spoke “H-How’s your leg?” Surprise overcame the man as he realized this child was his contact. The silence between them was world shattering. The man offered the green bag. As it left his arms, he nodded, and opened the door for the youth. Slowly and silently, the boy entered.

The weighted entrance slammed behind him. Loud echoes traveled through the building. The room was dark yet he still felt the need to hide. Moonlight peeked through curtain covered windows. Its invasion gave the child enough light to work with but it still left him blinded. It was one of the richest houses he’d seen. Large painted canvases clung to the walls. Statues glistened in the occasional beam of silver hue. Jewelry sparkled vibrant colors in their displays. The boy knew that he must be stealing something valuable. He moved slowly across the marble floor. His heart pounded in his head, easing open several doors that yielded few results. None of this other treasure mattered. What he needed was far more important. Tiny toes lightly tapped their way up the stairs. In the study, a large safe sat unguarded. According to the pocket watch’s previous owner, this was his target.

He had been instructed on how to unlock it. Opening the green bag, he found the tools that were described to him. The boy had all night to get it right. Equipping himself, he silently listened, breathing slowly. The ticks sounded as he turned the dial. There was a distinct sound when it caught inside the locked door. Patience, he thought to himself. He had to remain calm. As the door’s innards tumbled about, he felt himself melting into it. It was as if all he’d ever done was listen to the safe’s whispers. His focus was precise until, finally, the door unlocked.

The heavy metal screeched against its hinges. The boy grabbed out the contents. Papers, papers, and more papers. He didn’t care why such things were of significance. It never mattered why. All he knew is that he was going to be paid well for his services. He found some dim light coming from the hall and checked his pocket watch. He’d been there for three hours. It wasn’t a bad time for cracking his first safe, not for a novice like him anyways. Pushing the door shut on old hinges caused another loud creak and rattle. He held his breath and paused in the remaining silence.

Making his way downstairs was much easier than expected. The hard part was over, all he had to do was escape. The heavy door he’d entered from wasn’t his salvage. However, he knew there would be a back exit inside the cellar. That’s where he was headed. Light flooded one of the rooms behind him. Cleverly he hid between two huge pillars entangled in a statue. Careless feet patted across the cold floor. The marble slabs and thick walls reverberated the sound through the corridor as a new figure entered. The boy kept still, holding in his most recent intake of air. The shadowed body passed him over, unaware of the intruder. The dark silhouette of a large male withdrew into one of the rooms. A moment later, the boy cautiously moved out of the surrounding stone’s embrace. He quickly found his way to the cellar in fear of a more thorough check.

Unlocking the doors with a pick wasn’t as challenging as the safe had been. It took only a few moments before he was outside. Filling his lungs with the cold of night, he closed the exit behind him before proceeding to the rendezvous. Relaxed that the feat was over, he waited for his contact. The grass around him was a bright green and decorated with dew. He had gotten up to 3,974 droplets by the time he was approached. The boy was amused that it was a woman who had ruined his counting game. A smug grin spread across his face as she laid out the question “Have you tasted gold?”

As she left with the bag, he noticed a slip of paper resting in his pocket. Following a written set of instructions on it led the boy to a small alehouse. Odd that it would be the back ally he ended up in. Vague memories of what the man had said before rang in his head. The child tapped on the slender, wood door. He was hastily pulled inside as soon as it opened, finding himself caught up in a celebration among sneaky and criminous shadows. “Boy, you have earned yourself a position in our little organization.” The child looked up at the man from earlier, moving his face away from the large male’s underarm. “Don’t worry, you’ll get your pay! For now, we celebrate!”

The boy soaked in the alcohol drenched atmosphere for a few hours. A group of twenty three men drowned in cheap wine before his eyes. They were loud and shouted praise to him until no one could stand straight. A large figure sat next to him. Again, it was the man who was previously associated with the bag. “I didn’t expect you to do so well. I was so sure you would get caught.” The man looked at him. “You have earned a right to work here. We will train you in our profession. You can become one of the greatest spies of our time.” The boy looked over the drunkards playing card games and harassing one another. “We would be honored to have you as our brother.”

The night grew long. The boy had found a quiet place in an office, away from all the racket. It was a room at the end of the hall. There were many shelves lined with books, an old globe in the corner, and a large heavy desk with plenty of room to hide under. After getting stuck while trying to wedge between some barrels, the boy had decided that the adjacent storage rooms were no place to stay. That was when he’d found the silent room. A jolt coursed through his body when the door clacked open. He tucked away further in the desk’s leg space, unsure of who it was. A low chuckle filled the room.

The chair moved away from the desk and a familiar face peeked into the child’s cubby. “Hello there.” It was the man who had given him the watch. The boy perked up slightly. “Is there a reason you are hiding under my desk?”

“It was too loud out there. I didn’t like it.” The boy’s response made the man smile. He sat in the pushed out chair and continued looking at the child.

“I hope you don’t mind if I do some work then.” When the boy shook his head, the man started sorting out some paperwork. There were long moments of silence between them. The quiet was only broken by the rustling of files or the loud yelling from the bar. “What is your name?” the man finally addressed him. The boy looked up at the face peering down at him again. The man spoke again when there came no answer. “Your name?”

Another moment of silence passed before the boy uttered “I don’t know.” The man became concerned at this. He scooted his chair further out so he didn’t strain his body trying to make eye contact. He sat up in his chair a bit, thinking.

“Boy, how long have you been without your parents?” The child hugged his knees. He looked away from the man.

“I don’t remember.” His response came sad but the child didn’t cry. The man thought to himself, if this kid had truly been on his own long enough to forget his own name, then this boy was much more impressive than he initially thought. Carefully, the man reached under his desk and pulled the child out by his underarms. He stood the boy up in front of him and locked gazes with him. He felt sympathy for the child.

“You remind me of when I was younger. You are a very smart individual.” He gently wiped dirt off the boy’s face. The child lit up a little under the grime. He hadn’t received genuine praise since his mother was caring for him. “You will stay here with me…” The man paused a moment to wipe away more dirt. The boy’s heart skipped a beat. “…as my son. Do you understand?”

The boy nodded excitedly. His heart felt lifted of a huge weight. No longer would he have to fight for a meal. He wouldn’t be forced to choose between clothes or eating. He wouldn’t have to sleep in a cold, abandoned building. The child jumped at the man and hugged him tightly. Slightly caught off guard, the man patted the boy’s back. “Antoine.” The boy looked at the man curiously.

“Antoine?” It was a word he had never heard before. “What is Antoine?” The man let out a small laugh.

“It’s my name.” The boy became embarrassed for thinking it such a foreign object. “I’d like to pass it along to you.”

“To me?” The boy was confused once again. “But it’s your name.”

“Most of the men here don’t use names at all and we need to call you something.” The child thought about it. “What do you think?”

“Antoine.” The child whispered to himself. “I like it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Majority of this was written with the first chapter. I think I may have edited a few sentences and words to make it flow better but it's barely changed otherwise. Well, I have an entire month to work on the next part. I think I need to expand on this organisation a bit more. As it stands, they seem a little... distant from the reader. I'll fix it up before the end of March. No worries! ^_^


End file.
